


Don't Forget Me

by peachywrites



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Fluff, Crushes, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Missing Persons, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Roommates, Winter, jack frost type au??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachywrites/pseuds/peachywrites
Summary: "If Junmyeon felt the same when his roommate returned at the end of the week, he was going to confess exactly how he felt. And until then, he was going to do everything in his power to get rid of any ounce of attraction he had towards Wu Yifan. "aka: yifan goes on a trip to vancouver for the holidays and junmyeon tries to forget his crush in that time -- but that backfires when yifan doesn't return home, and junmyeon has to figure out why
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho & Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60
Collections: Round 3: Autumn and Winter - On the Snow





	Don't Forget Me

**Author's Note:**

> prompt flake ❅: #441 "inspired by the lyrics to 'girl x friend': "once this winter passes, if i still feel the same, i'll tell you." friends to lover au!. during the winter, yifan goes to vancouver to visit his family. junmyeon makes a promise to himself that he will finally confess his feelings to yifan once he comes back from the trip. but yifan doesn't return when he's supposed to, and junmyeon has to figure out why."
> 
> a/n ❅: please enjoy everyone!! i had a lot of fun with this prompt and i hope i did it justice!! i would def recommend listening to the ethereal remix of 'when you wish upon a star' while you read -- which can be found here !! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdXuDK2mPBY) i think it really sets the mood!!
> 
> anyway, enjoy !! xx

Junmyeon reminded himself of the differences between Seoul and Vancouver for the third time as he pulled up to the airport terminal drop-off. There weren’t _ any _ advantages in the western city he could think of off the top of his head, but Yifan didn’t seem any less excited for his trip as he practically vibrated in the passenger seat, tapping his long fingers against the side of the door. 

Junmyeon held back a scowl.

“You’ve got everything?” he questioned, once they’d shuffled out of the car, and began pulling Yifan’s luggage from the trunk. He silently hoped Yifan had forgotten something important so they could drive back to their apartment, and Junmyeon would have the elder to himself for a few more days while he rescheduled another flight.

One of Yifan’s bushy eyebrows rose in disbelief as he stretched his puffy jacket over his broad shoulders. “You made me go over my checklist  _ seven _ times. I’ll be fine.” He chuckled, and Junmyeon forced a smile. Internally, he cursed himself for caring so much -- it’d clearly not benefited him in this situation. But, he wasn’t about to let his friend travel five-thousand miles without everything he needed -- especially considering said friend was a clumsy and forgetful mess most of the time.

“You sure?” Junmyeon awkwardly shifted his weight from each foot, hoping his worrisome attitude wasn’t more noticeable than usual.

“Very much so,” Yifan confirmed, grunting when he heaved his weighty carry-on over his shoulder. “And if I  _ did _ forget something, I’ll just buy it. Or my mom will have it. It won’t be the end of the world.”

Yifan’s mother.  _ She _ was the difference between Seoul and Vancouver that Junmyeon had tried so desperately to forget. 

A lovely woman, Junmyeon knew. He’d never met her, but thought as highly of her as he could -- though he knew that was partially due to her perfect creation of a son. 

But, sadly, she was also the reason Yifan was leaving for the holidays. He hadn’t gone to visit her the year prior, instead opting to spend the winter season with Junmyeon, locked up in their cozy apartment watching cheesy foreign movies and explaining some of the customs to a befuddled Junmyeon.

She had also moved recently, and Yifan wanted to be a good son and help her feel comfortable in her new place.

" _ I have to go this year, Junmyeon. You understand, don’t you?”  _ Yifan had asked and Junmyeon did -- kind of. He hadn’t been separated by his family the way Yifan had, but that didn’t make his selfish desires any less persistent. Though, he knew the reasoning for wanting a shared holiday wasn’t just because he didn’t want to be lonely.  _ He’d never tell Yifan that, though _ .

“Yeah, you’re right.” Junmyeon sighed, and gave a softer,  _ real _ , smile this time. “You know how I am.”

“I do,” Yifan laughed, and took the extended suitcase handle Junmyeon held out to him. “But, that’s why you’re a great friend.”

_ Friend. _

_ That damn word. _

Junmyeon’s expression fell, but Yifan didn’t seem to notice. He was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to take off.

“Well, I’ll see you in a week then,” Junmyeon spoke, hoping the length of time wouldn’t seem  _ that _ long if he spoke it into existence. He could manage a week, he told himself. Just seven days. Seven very  _ boring _ and  _ lonely _ days -- but only seven days nonetheless. “No running off,” he warned his roommate, who just rolled his eyes -- though Junmyeon was being  _ very serious _ .

“Promise. I’ll send pictures too!” Yifan leaned in then, and gave Junmyeon an awkward hug, his luggage sandwiched between them, digging uncomfortably into their stomachs. Still, Junmyeon held onto the feeling, engraved every feeling of Yifan’s fingers into his mind as they patted his back softly. 

And then, Yifan was waving goodbye, turning around, and walking off without a second glance. 

Junmyeon watched. He only got back into the car once Yifan was completely swallowed into the masses of people shuffling through the airport. Then, he huffed and grumbled as he drove off, pushing a bit too aggressively on the gas pedal.

Yifan might have been out of sight, but he was most certainly  _ not _ out of mind. 

\--

The atmosphere in the apartment had completely shifted by the time Junmyeon got home. It was later in the afternoon -- due to inescapable holiday traffic, especially near the airport -- but it still seemed  _ too quiet _ . Yifan wasn’t the loudest roommate (Junmyeon thanked God for that on many occasions) but that didn’t stop his lanky form from bumping into things or his loud footsteps from echoing through the small part of the building they called home. 

It felt  _ empty _ .

Yifan had been gone before, of course. Back when they first moved in together, he was more prone to Canada trips, purely because neither of them had entirely adjusted to living together yet. They’d been friends prior, thankfully, but seeing each other once or twice a week wasn’t the same as coexisting in the same few hundred square feet at all times. Junmyeon hadn’t minded Yifan’s trips back then. He was used to not being around his friend 24/7, and a few days with the apartment to himself was a nice relief.

But, that was  _ before _ . Junmyeon liked to think he just got used to the constant company, but he knew it was deeper than that. His feelings towards Yifan had changed -- and while he would have liked to pretend and say that was a new observation, he knew that would be a lie. He might have been slow to catch onto  _ why _ he felt the way he did, but he also wasn’t  _ blind _ . 

Yifan was a six-foot statue of  _ ethereal excellence _ . Junmyeon had known that since the second they met -- it was impossible not to notice when the former towered over him the way he did. And Junmyeon was more than intimidated with that information, especially when Yifan’s stoic face and stern voice appeared and only made things worse.

But, it was a bit of a… front, one could call it. Yifan wasn’t anywhere near as threatening as he came across, Junmyeon realized after a few conversations. It was just easier that way, Yifan had explained with a shrug. He didn’t have to worry about the language barrier, awkward conversations, or unwanted solicitations if nobody approached him in the first place.

But, he was grateful to have Junmyeon as a friend, and a patient and understanding one at that. And, that’s all they were. Friends. Yifan hadn’t come across flirtatious or interested in any manner except platonic, and Junmyeon respected that -- even though he still felt butterflies whenever Yifan’s resting bitch face turned into a sparkling gummy smile.

Junmyeon knew, deep down, those little flutters in his stomach were the reason he missed Yifan so much. And he also knew he had to do something about that.  He wasn’t the best at concealing his feelings, and he knew the truth would come out sooner or later, especially since Yifan could be quite observant if he were lucky. Junmyeon just hoped that wouldn’t happen, and his fessing up could be on his own terms. Which is why he had been making a plan. 

If Junmyeon felt the same when his roommate returned at the end of the week, he was going to confess  _ exactly _ how he felt. And until then, he was going to do everything in his power to get rid of any ounce of attraction he had towards Wu Yifan. 

\--

_ All good things come to those who wait _ .

‘That  _ was _ the quote, right?’ Junmyeon thought, trying to reassure himself of his plan as he snuggled on the couch that night. He hadn’t expected his feelings for Yifan to disappear in a handful of hours -- he wasn’t a _ complete _ idiot -- but he also hadn’t expected to still feel just as heartbroken by his departure a whole afternoon later. He would have to get used to the feeling of being alone in the apartment eventually, otherwise the next seven days would surely be torture.

So, Junmyeon fully planned on distracting himself with things that would never in a million years remind him of Yifan. He had a whole life ahead of him, and he would need to find  _ something _ to fill the coming years that wasn’t his  _ absolutely perfect, heart-stoppingly handsome, crazy talented-- _

Junmyeon buried his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes to remove the image of Yifan from his brain. He was  _ screwed _ , clearly, so he hastily grabbed the television remote and hoped that some movie would at least keep him zoned out for the next couple hours.

Yet, the TV proved to be little help. The news only reminded him that Seoul was a whopping ten degrees colder than Vancouver (he had checked the weather before Yifan left to make sure he took enough jackets) and he slightly resented himself for not just blowing his bank account and turning the heater up higher if it meant Yifan wouldn’t have  _ left _ \-- like the temperature mattered at all in the equation (which it didn’t).

The next channel was a romantic drama  _ right _ in the middle of the long-awaited confession scene, and Junmyeon  _ did not _ admit the resemblance in the brooding, tall, love interest to his long-distance crush.

He did, however, envy the short, level-headed, shy main character that had worked up enough courage to admit said feelings. Surely, if  _ she _ could do it, then Junmyeon could too. It didn’t matter that she had a script, and likely harbored no feelings towards her coworker -- she was still doing something that many people did daily. Except Junmyeon.

And then he remembered the whole point of his following week was to get  _ rid _ of his feelings for Yifan, not confess them. He was not about to ruin his years-long friendship over something as childishly idiotic as his schoolgirl crush.

Junmyeon sighed. Then, he turned off the television and retreated to the comfort of his room. 

He could only hope that Yifan wouldn’t invade all eight hours of his sleep with fantastical and all too persuading dreams.

\---

Junmyeon hated the way his whole body warmed when he saw he had two text messages and a missed call from Yifan when he awoke. They’d been sent only an hour earlier, though Vancouver was already a couple of hours behind. In fact, Junmyeon was slightly surprised, considering Yifan almost  _ always _ slept in later than himself. He just assumed Mama Wu and a case of jet lag had to be the cause.

**☆ yifan:** _next time i say im going 2 vc, tell me no._

Junmyeon shook his head at the first text. If only Yifan knew.

**☆ yifan:** _i swear every family member i’ve ever known is here. this is hell_

And then, a missed call.

Junmyeon felt a bit bad returning the call, just in case Yifan was wrapped up in family matters, but he  _ had _ called first. So Junmyeon hesitated a moment before clicking Yifan’s contact.

Yifan answered quickly, a bit of shuffling coming over the receiver before his deep voice filtered through. “Jun, thank god. They were just about to lecture me on getting a haircut! Don’t they know the mullet is back in style?”

Ah yes,  _ that hair _ . Junmyeon had no idea what had prompted that cut, but Yifan seemed happy. It was silver, though Junmyeon wasn’t entirely sure  _ how _ . He’d just returned to the apartment one day to find Yifan staring in the mirror with the most bewildered look on his face. He just assumed it was a dye job gone bad, and Yifan just nodded when Junmyeon offered that explanation. 

“It is a little long, don’t you think?” Junmyeon offered, as he finally pushed himself out of bed.

“Not you too! I thought you liked it,” Yifan whined in return. “They like the silver, at least.”

Junmyeon stopped in his tracks to the kitchen. His conservative Chinese family didn’t like his haircut but they were fine with him  _ dyeing _ it? That seemed wrong, but he brushed it off.

“Anyway,” Yifan changed the subject suddenly, almost like he’d said something wrong. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me back. I’m locked in the bathroom right now. No phone rule.”

Junmyeon laughed, then cleared his throat. He gave himself the haughtiest voice he could. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Wu. I was unaware my services were so deeply desired.”

“Oh cut it out. You’re the only one keeping me sane right now.”

Junmyeon rolled his eyes, glad Yifan couldn’t see his expression. “Buzzkill.”

“Yeah yeah, you love me,” Yifan retorted.

On the other end of the line, Junmyeon gulped. His eyes widened as he stood in the kitchen with zero words to respond. Thankfully, Yifan filled the silence.

“Oh! I forgot. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Junmyeon didn’t like the solemn tone Yifan took on. 

“Well-- wait. Ah, shit. I hear someone coming down the hall. Bet they’re wondering what I’ve been doing in here for so long.”

“Oh.” Junmyeon paused. “Well, you better hurry before they give you some tea to fix your constipation or some shit -- literally.”

“Your jokes are the worst.”

Suddenly, some muffled yelling came across the phone. Junmyeon had learned enough Cantonese in his life to recognize a scolding, albeit worried, Chinese mother when he heard one. 

“Fuck, gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Wait, what were you going to--”

“Bye!”

Junmyeon stared at his phone in surprise as it returned to his home screen. He considered quickly texting Yifan and asking, but then remembered the  _ no-phone rule _ and decided against it. Surely, it could wait? It couldn’t have been that important if Yifan couldn’t spare a few seconds to tell him. 

Right?

\--

Apparently, Junmyeon realized after two days of silence, it was more important than he thought.

He’d normally be ashamed to admit just how many texts and calls he’d left Yifan, but the circumstances were dire. At least, he thought so. No posts on social media. No messages read. No calls returned.

Junmyeon was completely and utterly filled with worry. He hadn’t slept much. He couldn’t. If he missed Yifan’s call, he’d die of guilt.

Junmyeon scrolled through his roommate’s Instagram for the 20th time that hour, mumbling to himself. “I mean, it’s not that crazy, right? People get kidnapped all the time!” He scooped another mouthful of ramen into his mouth, eyes not wavering from their stone-cold gaze on his phone screen. He imagined for a moment what Yifan would think if he saw his oh-so-sophisticated roommate with a noodle hanging from his lip as he sat in his unchanged pajamas for the third day in a row. But, he quickly cleared his mind from that. There were more important things at hand.

“I mean, his grandma wouldn’t be able to protect him. Right? But, what if they just took his phone? Wouldn’t they let him use it at least  _ once _ ?” Junmyeon continued to mutter theories to himself as he checked everything he could think of -- Snapchat, Twitter -- anything he followed or could remember the handle to.

But nothing. It was like he disappeared off the face of the Earth. 

Junmyeon’s eyes left his phone, darting over to the door across the room. He’d gone into Yifan’s room countless times when invited but never disturbed his privacy otherwise. 

Now seemed like the exception.

He pocketed his phone and leaped off the couch before darting to the door.

He groaned. Was this ok? 

_ “Yifan, just know! You forced me to do this!” _ he thought, yelling to the elder inside his head. 

Then, he opened the door.

Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Yifan’s bed was surprisingly made and the usual sporadic trash and laundry had been picked up. Junmyeon wanted to cry. He wanted to see something, something so blatantly obvious. But there was nothing.

He had to push his guilt away and search more. Yifan was practically a missing person by now! He had to think of Yifan. _ His Yifan _ .

Junmyeon checked his desk first. Nothing. A few pens and some random sketches, some finished assignments he’d turn in after winter break -- but nothing else. No notebooks. No sticky notes. No huge posters saying “sorry I disappeared Junmyeon, I’ll be home in four days!”

And then, something caught Junmyeon’s eye. A calendar was hanging beside Yifan’s bed, and like a sign from some holy entity itself, a date was circled in blue marker.

Junmyeon stared at the date in confusion. It was today, but that made no sense. The holidays were still a couple of days away, and not even  _ they _ were circled or marked. Today was, though, with just a big blue circle and no other identifiers. 

So, he  _ did _ have something planned. Maybe he got caught up with that, Junmyeon reasoned. And for a minute, he could take a deep breath. It still didn’t explain why Yifan hadn’t returned his calls, but it was enough to let Junmyeon relax his whirring brain for a second.

He silently returned everything in Yifan’s room to its place, before retreating back to the couch. He grabbed his forgotten, cold ramen, and the remote and turned the TV on. It was that same damn drama as the night before.

But, before he could think to complain, Junmyeon was fast asleep.

\--

Junmyeon was appalled at the time when he woke up. It was a whole day later, almost dinner time, in fact. And for a moment, he chalked the past three days up to some wild coma-like dream -- until he saw his phone. Nothing. Yifan was still gone, just like before.

He took a deep breath. He must have just gotten caught up with his plans from the day before.

Still, Junmyeon sent another text and called once more for good measure. Nothing.

_ “Hey-uh, sorry! Not at the phone right now. Call me back later.”  _

Yifan’s deep voice, a little altered from the recording, brought a half-smile to Junmyeon’s face. He just wanted to hear Yifan one more time -- just to know he was safe. But he couldn’t. Yifan offered zero comfort, zero anything, in fact. It caused Junmyeon to have that type of silence in his head, where it was so quiet you could almost hear ringing. 

He knew had to weigh his options. They had a set date, flight, and arrival time for Yifan’s return, and he had to wait until then before he made any decisions. Yifan was not to be expected back until then, so he was almost in limbo. Junmyeon couldn’t really cause a scene or file up a missing person report. Yifan hadn’t  _ promised _ to message or call Junmyeon every day. That’s just how some friends were in the first place, anyway. They didn’t talk daily, and that didn’t cause concern.

So, he’d have to wait. He’d go back to his normal routine, albeit slightly relaxed considering classes were out, and he’d go to the airport when he was expected to. Yifan would show up and apologize for losing his phone charger or something else so characteristically clumsy of him, and all would be fine.

Junmyeon took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d already planned on surviving seven days without Yifan, and he would go through with that promise. He was clearly reaching a level of dependency that was unhealthy and needed to be fixed.

He needed to rid his mind of Wu Yifan, and fast.

\--

Unsurprisingly, that did not come easily. Junmyeon still checked his phone like a mad man. He still counted down every minute until Yifan’s arrival, but it seemed to lessen little by little. He was able to make a  _ real _ dinner and sit down and watch a movie without thinking of Yifan  _ too _ many times, and he slept normally, in his  _ bed _ the last two nights. 

_ Everything was fine. _

That’s all he kept telling himself.

_ It’s not a big deal. He’s just busy with holidays and family. _

Junmyeon was even able to distract himself when Christmas finally rolled around. He visited his parents, as did his brother, and between some good food and Christmas cake, he was able to put his mind off Yifan. 

Until, of course, his mother asked how the apartment was.

“ _ And your roommate? Don’t tell me you left him alone. You should have invited him too!” _

Thankfully, Junmyeon’s mother was quite relieved to know that Yifan was off with his own family. Hopefully. Junmyeon didn’t bother explaining. He didn’t want to worry his parents or brother, especially around the holidays. They already had enough to deal with, and Junmyeon’s childish worries did not need to become an even bigger deal than they already were. It was not his family’s fault he was having an over glamorized case of separation anxiety. 

After exchanging gifts and farewells, Junmyeon went home.

It was quiet. And cold. And dark.

He went straight to bed. 

The last two days were a bit foggy. Junmyeon cleaned the apartment, once, then twice. He watched a couple of holiday movies that were airing -- and religiously avoided the channel that one damn drama kept playing on.

And he slept.

Junmyeon hadn’t realized how taxing the “ _ situation” _ had been. His nerves were really wearing him out. And so, he fell asleep on the couch, and then moved to his bed, and slept the day away.

And then, all at once, everything came tumbling down. He woke up with a sore neck and a slight feeling of nausea from all the excess sleep. The incessant beeping of his phone alarm kept ringing through his ear until he grabbed his phone. 

He blearily looked at the screen.

It was time. It was  _ time _ .

_ It was time. _

Junmyeon stared at the alarm name in astonishment. How had he slept so long?

**!! PICK UP YIFAN !!**

The reminder stared back at him. 

He looked at the time and gasped. Yifan’s flight would be coming in roughly an hour.

Junmyeon turned off his alarm and pulled up the flight details. Everything was on time. No delays. No cancellations. 

Yifan would be home within the next two hours. 

Junmyeon jumped out of bed with a grin. He got ready as quickly as possible before leaving the apartment without a second glance. His footsteps were a bit too loud as he carried himself downstairs, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except Yifan who he’d finally see.

The car ride was agonizing. Every red light, every halt in movement drove Junmyeon crazy. He knew he would be early, he’d left a lot sooner than he could have, but he didn’t care.

And when he showed up to the airport, and parked in the short-term parking, he was completely on edge. He needed to know what was happening, why Yifan went silent, why he disappeared, what he had wanted to tell Junmyeon on their last call. All of it. He needed answers.

So Junmyeon made his way to the concourse, and then the correct terminal. He checked the time again. The flight had landed and people were starting to meet up after getting their luggage. Couples and families reunited beside him, and Junmyeon just stood in the blur of it all.

Every person who walked by caught his eye, and every person was not Yifan.

He sent Yifan another text. 

And waited.

A group of people came through the terminal, and Junmyeon pushed on his tippy-toes, checking each head for a mess of silver hair. None of them matched his roommate.

_ It must just be a luggage issue. _

The crowd started to slow, and people started to stare. Junmyeon just stood straighter, and tried not to twiddle his thumbs in front of him. He wasn’t nervous -- there was no way. Yifan might have not have returned his calls -- but he wouldn’t  _ miss his flight _ .

Junmyeon waited a few moments longer, until a tall frame came into view.  _ Finally _ .

His legs were carrying him before he even noticed, and it was too late to stop moving when he finally saw a face he didn’t recognize.

The man, who was certainly not Yifan -- though his sharp features did bear some resemblance -- watched him uncomfortably.

“Oh… I’m sorry I thought.” But the man had already passed him, walking away without a second glance.

Yifan never showed.

\--

Junmyeon had never been someone to make spontaneous decisions -- in fact, he feared them. 

But booking a trip to Vancouver had been the decision to break that streak. 

When he returned home from the airport -- sans Yifan -- Junmyeon threw all caution to the wind. He stormed into Yifan’s room, and searched every drawer and every crevice he could. And he was lucky enough to find what he needed. Underneath Yifan’s dresser, on a half ripped yellow sticky note, was his clue. 

The words were in scribbled English, but with some basic vocabulary and the help of online translating, Junmyeon had his answer.

_ Mom’s new address and #.  _ Yifan’s messy handwriting was followed by an array of numbers and Junmyeon made his decision in that moment. If Yifan’s mom didn’t answer the phone, he was going to Vancouver and that was that.

With bated breath, Junmyeon dialed the number. It rang once, then twice, then went to an automated voicemail. 

Junmyeon didn’t waste any more time. His flight was booked in a blink of an eye. The nine-hour duration and hefty price for a flight so soon meant nothing. He needed answers.

There were two flights a day to Vancouver, so Junmyeon booked the earliest one. He brought only the essentials, making sure to keep that vital sticky note on him at all times. 

The next day passed in a blur. He drove to the airport for the third time that week, looking like a wreck, but he didn’t care. He went through security, and boarded the plane without issue and didn’t pass a second glance at the people in the middle and aisle seat. They did not matter. Nothing mattered. He just wanted to get to Vancouver and find Yifan and forget everything that happened.

Thankfully, he was also extremely tired, and escaped most of the lengthy flight through sleep. The other couple hours he just sat, waited, and stared out the window at the clouds around him.

He felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu as he arrived in an airport yet again, and went through international security and boarding. However, he also felt like a robot repeating the same actions. It was extremely numbing. He was jet-lagged, and so tired, but adrenaline and worries kept him awake. They battled in his mind, with neither winning, and his brain sat in the stalemate.

The cab driver was friendly enough, though Junmyeon heard that was a stereotype when it came to Canadians. He used his basic English to say hello, before showing the man the sticky note and pointing at the address. The man nodded, smiled, and they were off -- the only sound between them the radio that filtered between somewhat familiar western pop songs and a blur of advertisements Junmyeon didn’t bother to mentally translate.

The snow outside clung to the windows, and Junmyeon pulled his jacket closer to him. Sure, Seoul was colder, but Junmyeon had been in his heated apartment for the past week, barely paying attention to the outside world. Watching the snow and seeing the ice made it feel much chillier than it actually was, and Junmyeon felt relieved when the cab driver turned up the heater.

It took a while, but finally, the driver reached more suburban areas of town. His eyes glanced at his GPS a few times, until he pulled into an unsuspecting neighborhood. Junmyeon stared at the houses, unblinking, until they stopped in front of one.

He thanked the driver, gave him some foreign currency he’d exchanged at the airport, and grabbed his luggage from the trunk. The man shot him one more friendly Canadian smile, and then he was off.

Junmyeon stared at the house, his legs feeling like jelly as they took him up the stones leading to the door. At that moment, he realized how absolutely absurd he was. He was standing in front of his roommate’s mother’s house, in a foreign country, barely any knowledge of the language, and only his one suitcase and a few unfamiliar bills to his name.

He took a deep breath, and took the few steps that separated him from the answers he’d waited a week for. 

With a quick lift of his hand, he left a few resounding knocks. As he waited, he swallowed the lump in his throat, and prayed to every entity above that someone was home, and that he had the right house.

He heard some shuffling, then the lock, and held his breath. The door slowly opened, and a small Asian woman caught his gaze. Her brows furrowed, and she said something in English that Junmyeon didn’t quite catch.

“I--,” he choked on his own tongue, feeling it betray him. “Yifan. Wu Yifan? Is he here?”

Her eyes widened and Junmyeon watched as she inched the door closed a bit. He took a step closer, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Please!” the Korean slipped but he didn’t notice. “I need to see him, please.”

She watched his breakdown with a stone-cold expression, and began to shut the door.

Junmyeon felt the panic course through his body -- until a familiar voice came from inside the house.  _ Yifan _ .

He was speaking Cantonese, but Junmyeon recognized it all the same. The woman held the door open with a sigh, and Junmyeon watched as Yifan walked into the room, looking almost unrecognizable. His hair was cut, almost entirely white, and his skin was a few tones lighter than usual. 

Yifan caught Junmyeon’s gaze, and the latter gasped. His eyes were a piercing blue. 

Yifan quickly diverted his attention back to the woman, and spoke to her in a soft but firm tone. His whispered demands were too quiet to make out, but the woman only bit her tongue and nodded at whatever they were, before she walked away.

Junmyeon stared wide-eyed as Yifan opened the door fully, and took a step out before closing it gently. He looked  _ so different --  _ with rosy cheeks and a mop of snow-white hair. In fact, if he hadn’t had the same voice and faded blue hoodie, Junmyeon wasn’t entirely sure he’d recognize him.

“I think,” Yifan started, reverting back to Korean with questionable ease, “I have some explaining to do?”

Junmyeon dropped the handle to his suitcase, and pulled Yifan into a hug. The latter returned the gesture immediately, large hands splayed across Junmyeon’s back. And then, he sobbed. Junmyeon sobbed like a child, and muffled his cries into Yifan’s sweatshirt, without care of snot or tears. 

“ _ I’m sorry,” _ Yifan leaned down and murmured in his ear, and Junmyeon shivered because instead of warmth, Yifan’s breath was ice cold against his skin. “ _ I’m so sorry _ .”

Junmyeon jerked back, and then slapped Yifan across the chest. “What the fuck!” He angrily wiped the tears across his now red cheeks, suddenly embarrassed at his outburst. “I just fucking crossed countries to make sure you were ok, and you respond with  _ ‘I’m sorry _ ’? You have got to be joking me!”

“Junmyeon-”

“No! Don’t you  _ Junmyeon _ me. I have been worried sick for over a week!”

Yifan’s face contorted in confusion. “A week? I was supposed to get home the day before yesterday though.”

Junmyeon huffed. “You didn’t answer any calls or texts before that, though. I thought you died.”

Yifan let out a sigh, then grabbed Junmyeon’s hand. His fingers were ice cold, and Junmyeon didn’t entirely like the feeling. They felt… Different.

“Look, let’s just talk, ok? I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

Junmyeon stared at him. He still felt angry --  _ so  _ angry, and betrayed, and hurt. But the relief he also felt was palpable, and he knew he wouldn’t be mad for long. He never could be when it came to Yifan.

“Promise?”

“Swear on my life. Now, let’s go on a walk.”

“But my luggage-”

“My mom will take care of it, don’t worry.”

Junmyeon hesitated a moment, but saw the look of desperation on Yifan’s face, so he nodded. Whatever excuse his roommate had, he was ready to hear it. So, he held Yifan’s hand tighter, and let the elder lead him down the stone pathway onto the sidewalk.

“Your mom didn’t seem too happy about me showing up,” Junmyeon commented, breaking the heavy tension between them.

Yifan laughed, and shook his head. “Well, you did interrupt a pretty important event. Though, I think she was just more surprised to see you.”

“Event? Was that what was circled on your calendar for a few days ago?” Junmyeon asked immediately, trying to tie together the clues in his mind.

Yifan looked at him with a raised brow. “You went through my stuff?”

“I thought you were  _ dead, _ ” Junmyeon argued.

“Fair point. Short answer, yes. The event began then and was supposed to end a few hours before my flight, but it seems to have extended this year.” Yifan didn’t offer any further explanation and continued to walk without another word. Junmyeon followed his gaze and saw a park with a woodsy area up ahead, and assumed that’s where they would continue.

Sure enough, Yifan led them through the empty playground equipment over to the trees, dying branches bending as they held clumps of snow. Junmyeon felt even colder than before, and his teeth started to chatter.

“Are you cold?” Yifan asked, looking over at him.

“It’s fine, I-”

But before he could say anything, Yifan was releasing his hand, and reaching for his hoodie.

“Wait, but you’re gonna-”

Yifan tugged it over his head, then started to pull it over Junmyeon’s smaller frame without a second thought.

“Yifan! What about you?” Junmyeon stared up at him with now mussed-hair and a pout. “You’re literally wearing a t-shirt!”

“Junmyeon, I can assure you I am fine.”

“It’s literally below freezing, are you insane?”

“Junmyeon, stop.” Yifan’s now blue eyes shifted slightly, and Junmyeon gulped at the threatening look in them. Yifan looked fine -- not a shiver or goosebump in sight. It was like he was immune.

So, he nodded, and held the hoodie closer, taking in the familiar scent.

“Yifan?”

The elder hummed.

“What’s the long story? You gave me the short story to why you were gone, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

Yifan nodded, then looked up to the sky with a faint smile. “Junmyeon, are there ever those fairytales or old stories that just  _ feel _ real. Like, you  _ understand  _ them?” He tilted his head back down, and waited for an answer.

“What?”

“You know, like folklore or something. One you can just connect to?”

“Yifan what does this have to do with--”

“Answer the question, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon thought for a second, then shook his head. “No? Fairytales are for kids, Yifan. What is this all about?”

Yifan chuckled, a deep, disbelieving sound from far in his chest. “Oh Jun, we always think that, don’t we?” He shook his head then, his smile dropping. “But, if you really thought that, deep down, you wouldn’t be able to see me right now.” 

“Wouldn’t--wouldn’t see you?” Junmyeon stared in confusion, his whole body numb from disbelief and the cold air around him. But then he felt it, deep in his chest. That nagging feeling that Yifan was always just  _ too _ perfect.  _ Too otherworldy _ , but still so unnoticed. Few acknowledged him, let alone approached him, even though he was  _ always _ there -- looking so  _ perfectly untouched _ .

“Junmyeon,” Yifan soothed, then took a step closer. He held the younger’s cheeks between his hands, and blue melted into brown as their gazes connected. And Junmyeon  _ felt it _ . He felt the years lived, the lives passed, the lifetimes that melted into one, and he knew in that moment that Yifan had never truly been human. It had always been there, so close, yet untouchable. But now, the thin veil that blinded Junmyeon was gone, and he  _ saw _ Yifan.

“What are you?” He asked, unblinking as a tear fell down his cheek. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying. Fear. Disbelief. Shock. None of that felt right. He just felt…  _ awake _ . Like everything was new, and overwhelming. 

“Oh, now  _ that _ \--  _ that depends _ . God? Sprite? Faerie? I’ve never just settled on one name, I guess you could say.”

Junmyeon choked on a sob. “Why.. why did you leave me? Why didn’t you call me at least?”

Yifan’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, I really am. I had some  _ tasks _ , you could call them, that I had to finish. Things I can’t explain to you very easily.”

“You couldn’t even text?”

Yifan’s frown grew. “I thought…. Well, nevermind what I thought.”

“No.” Junmyeon’s voice was stern. “Tell me.”

The elder sighed, then relented. “I worried that as I became more…  _ me _ , the real me, you’d forget me. You’d lose your belief as I became less of what you knew. I couldn’t bear that thought -- messaging you and seeing you not respond, because I don’t exist to you any longer. So, I pulled away.”

“How could I forget you?” Junmyeon asked, and  _ finally _ cupped Yifan’s pink cheek, running his thumb over the cold skin. “I don’t think I could if I tried.” Yifan had made his way into Junmyeon’s heart -- practically etched his name into the muscle.

Yifan’s whole body seemed to relax at that, and a soft smile returned to his face. His eyes darted for a moment, only a split second, glancing at Junmyeon’s plump pink lips -- tinted a light blue from the cold.

That little action was enough to send Junmyeon into a whirlwind of emotions as he remembered his initial goal of the week. To rid himself of his attraction to Yifan. Oh, how silly it sounded now. Hadn’t he known all along that he could never do that? He was Yifan’s from the moment he met him. And the little glance Yifan offered made him think, just  _ maybe _ , the elder felt the same way.

“Yifan?”

He hummed again, blue eyes watching intently.

“Kiss me?”

His lips were softer than snow, and colder than ice, but Junmyeon had never felt warmer and happier in his life. His week of worries was forgotten as he melted into Yifan, letting the larger man cradle him as he gave him the sweetest, gentlest kiss he’d ever received. 

When Yifan pulled away, his cool breath smelled like mint and,  _ somehow _ , love. “I will give you anything you ask for, don’t you realize that? You have given me promised life and existence, the greatest gift of all.”

Junmyeon felt like wind, so light and airy as he stared into Yifan’s eyes. “Then, will you take me home?”

Yifan grinned, and gave him a peck. “Anything you wish for.”

As they walked back to the house, they passed the playground again, and a few kids were playing in the snow in their puffy neon jackets -- tossing handfuls of white to each other with loud giggles.

Yifan nudged Junmyeon lightly, then whispered, “ _ watch this _ .”

With a wisp of his hand, snow swirled around the kids and tickled their noses, as snowflakes landed in their hair. Another round of giggles sang through the playground, as the kids, and Junmyeon, watched in amazement. The children cheered and huddled together as they whispered of  _ magic _ and  _ Jack Frost _ and other things that Junmyeon hoped they’d never grow out of.

And Junmyeon realized something in that moment. He glanced at all the snowfall around them, then looked up at Yifan. “Is this all your doing, then?”

Yifan laughed. “Some, yes. Not all. I do what I can wherever I am at the time, if the season calls for it.”

Junmyeon listened intently as Yifan explained the frost, and ice, and snow, and pure  _ cold _ he held within. He could hide it sometimes, as he did most often around Junmyeon, but it was hard to keep it at bay -- especially during winter -- hence the trips to places he knew were safe and where people believed in him, like Vancouver.

Other times, it showed itself without warning, like when Yifan’s hair reverted back to a faded version of its original color -- silver instead of the pure white it intended. 

It had been there -- all this time. Right under Junmyeon’s nose. Just out of reach.

He knew he had pressing questions, things that Yifan needed to answer, and conversations that needed to be had. But, Junmyeon knew right now wasn’t the time. Right now, he only had one question on his mind.

“Does this mean I don’t need to keep the heater up as much?” He asked, completely serious.

Yifan laughed at that, and shook his head. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I prefer the cold.”

Junmyeon stared at the beauty around them -- all the wonderful gifts that Yifan had bestowed upon Earth for winter, and smiled. His fingers felt numb, and his nose was bright pink, but he’d never felt more comfortable in his life.

He squeezed Yifan’s hand.

“I think I prefer the cold too.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you all liked this. it was a damn hard fic to brainstorm and write, since i really left my comfort zone and did something out of the box, but i hope it paid off! please do let me know what you thought !! happy seasonal fest everyone !! ❅❅❅


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